Delicate Features and Pretty Smiles
by ZAPBETH
Summary: They were constantly pulling each other to change, to be more like what they had always wanted in a partner. They were constantly pushing what they wanted into how they deemed the other should be, shoving away the unwanted characteristics. somewhat L/J


**Disclaimer: I don't own anything from the Harry Potter universe that JK Rowling has created.**

She was always beautiful with the way she held herself. She was always beautiful with her red hair and her green eyes. Lily Evans was always beautiful even if she denied it, concocting stories of how there were girls with more delicate features and prettier smiles.

And as he gazed at her, he always wanted to make her see how beautiful she was. He wanted to kiss those lips until she finally believed what everybody always told her. He wanted to make her feel beautiful. He wanted his lips to somehow convey a message of beauty to her brain, convincing her once and for all of what he saw every day.

He wanted her to smile self-assuredly with her lips forming the perfect D-shape, her eyes twinkling merrily, her teeth aligned, her confidence bewitching. He wanted her to bat those eyelashes and make that poor bloke fall in love with her, in order to show her that she had done the exact same thing to him without eyelashes fluttering. He wanted her to understand the power she had in her hands.

He wanted her to be the confident girl that he had envisioned her as. He wanted to ask her what was so important about having delicate features and pretty smiles when she had lovely features and a striking smile. He wanted to tell her that she was as stunning as any girl could ever dream to be. He wanted to kiss her, to hug her, to whisper sweet nothings in her ear.

He wanted her to melt at his words, at his jokes. He wanted her knees to become wobbly when he smiled at her, when he said things directed at her. He wanted her heart to throb when he touched her hand. He wanted her to toss out the attitude that he wasn't worth paying attention to, that he wasn't worth having a conversation with, that he wasn't worth getting on a date with. He wanted her to be his, and only his, and love him like he loved her.

But he still wanted her to be the same, to be the girl who he had fallen in love with, the girl who wouldn't take any shit. He wanted her to be the girl who would still be strong and studious. He wanted her to be everything that would make a girl perfect in his eyes.

It didn't matter to him anymore what she wanted. It didn't matter if she didn't want to be swept off her feet by James Potter. It didn't matter if she didn't want to be changed into something different for him. It didn't matter if she thought she was already self-assured without femininity radiating from her body. It didn't matter if she didn't want to be kissed and then have all the wonders of the world revealed to her, which he thought would happen if he got the chance to simply kiss her.

She wanted him to stop his gloating and his bragging. She wanted him to understand that not everything was going to beautiful, some things had to be ugly. She wanted him to deflate his ego and think about other people for what she assumed would be the first time in his life. She wanted him to be understating, thoughtful, intelligent.

She wanted him to stop pranking, to stop making fun of people simply because he could. She wanted him to stop believing that his supposed good looks were enough to provide him with everything in the world. She wanted him to stop thinking about himself every moment of every day. She wanted him to be a gentleman, a charming replica of the princes in fairy tales.

She wanted him to stop smirking in the overly confident way that he was accustomed to. She wanted him to stop trying to make every single girl in school fall in love with him, only to break their hearts. She wanted him to stop asking her the same question day after day, week after week, year after year.

She wanted him to stop running his hand through his hair, making it look like he was an idiotic who couldn't find a comb. She wanted him to stop laughing at the expense of others, to stop finding it hilarious when he flipped somebody over in order to expose their underpants.

She wanted him to stop being conceited and rude to anybody who annoyed him. She wanted him to stop acting like he was a prince that everybody should worship. She wanted him to learn humility and respect. She wanted him to shred every spot of vanity he had within his body.

She wanted him to stop talking about Quidditch all the time, to stop playing around with a stolen Snitch. She wanted him to be more like herself: rule-respecting, studious, kind. She wanted him to be worthy of her love.

It didn't matter to her that he was who he was because of Quidditch, his bravery and courage shown on the pitch. It didn't matter to her that his friends weren't the quiet, diligent type. It didn't matter that he didn't know how to act any other way.

And so they were at a standoff. They were constantly pulling each other to change, to be more like what they always wanted in a partner. They were constantly pushing what they wanted into how they deemed the other should be, pushing away the unwanted characteristics. They were so fixed with what they supposed would be best for the other person, what they supposed they would want for the rest of their lives.

They were in a constant struggle. They were much too stubborn to realize that they couldn't force the other to be exactly like they wanted them to. It would remain an impasse until one would decide to bend.


End file.
